Official DUP NAPOWRIMO (National Poetry Writing Month) 2017
April 20--Dream of Clarity
I dreamt of the beaches where
we agreed to marry
and to divorce .
The hands of God were there
all along, as waves
washing away the taint,
I never saw coming.
Endings came at the place
of beginnings, on
rocky shorelines, and
footprints scattered
in sands
are mine, as I walk away
alone
beginning again .
Unyoked thoughts flood
the mind, with
clarity on new tides; I start
where I was, before
us,
forgiving myself, first.
I dreamt of the beaches where
we agreed to marry
and to divorce .
The hands of God were there
all along, as waves
washing away the taint,
I never saw coming.
Endings came at the place
of beginnings, on
rocky shorelines, and
footprints scattered
in sands
are mine, as I walk away
alone
beginning again .
Unyoked thoughts flood
the mind, with
clarity on new tides; I start
where I was, before
us,
forgiving myself, first.
20/30
No Apologies
Forgive me
for withholding
many details of my personal life
through my poetry; I prefer
not to stir up the ghosts
Rather than evict them
reclaim my old haunting grounds
I chose to move out and live
in the moment; the Present is
where I battle my demons
The wraiths of childhood bullies
who do occasionally materialize
in my thoughts only linger long enough
to serve as a reminder that
I already killed them
not by physically decimating them
at least hundred times
in the arena of my mind
which I did to no avail
but instead by
turning my back on them
and walking away
Time does not heal a damn thing
We do
with great self restraint
refraining from severing
the scar tissue of old wounds
in mistaken attempts of slitting
throats of unwanted apparitions
No Apologies
Forgive me
for withholding
many details of my personal life
through my poetry; I prefer
not to stir up the ghosts
Rather than evict them
reclaim my old haunting grounds
I chose to move out and live
in the moment; the Present is
where I battle my demons
The wraiths of childhood bullies
who do occasionally materialize
in my thoughts only linger long enough
to serve as a reminder that
I already killed them
not by physically decimating them
at least hundred times
in the arena of my mind
which I did to no avail
but instead by
turning my back on them
and walking away
Time does not heal a damn thing
We do
with great self restraint
refraining from severing
the scar tissue of old wounds
in mistaken attempts of slitting
throats of unwanted apparitions
April 20, 2017
CYCLE III: WATER
Recreation
Since we were we, we dipped her gentle swell,
Immersed in stream and ocean, lake and bath.
We bent our lips, her spread to fill our quell.
Our naked selves baptized in wetted laugh.
The waters gave us home for our half-Mer’,
A flowing grace that took our fore-souls in.
We worshiped Mother’s gifts in drinking her,
And gave ourselves that She might wash our sin.
It’s in Her deeps leviathan gave place,
The haunting monsters pulled from Ahab’s dreams.
That seeming punished those that laid Her waste
In hubris borne in god-usurping schemes.
What once we praised and feared, we need once more,
Returning us to Mother’s healing shore.
CYCLE III: WATER
Recreation
Since we were we, we dipped her gentle swell,
Immersed in stream and ocean, lake and bath.
We bent our lips, her spread to fill our quell.
Our naked selves baptized in wetted laugh.
The waters gave us home for our half-Mer’,
A flowing grace that took our fore-souls in.
We worshiped Mother’s gifts in drinking her,
And gave ourselves that She might wash our sin.
It’s in Her deeps leviathan gave place,
The haunting monsters pulled from Ahab’s dreams.
That seeming punished those that laid Her waste
In hubris borne in god-usurping schemes.
What once we praised and feared, we need once more,
Returning us to Mother’s healing shore.
NaPoWriMo 20/30 for April 20th, 2017
“Villanelle” No: 20
Author’s Note:
Actually, it’s not a Villanelle, it’s a Verzanelle (hot off the press, invented by me). Explanation as follows:-
The best known (maybe only) cousin of the Villanelle is the Terzanelle (invented by the American poet Lewis Turco in 1965) which combines the repeating format of the “Terza Rima” (where the 2nd line of each triplet becomes the third line of the following triplet), with the 19-line format of the villanelle. The last stanza of 4 lines has a special format, repeating 3 previous lines.
The Verzanelle (as I have named it) follows the terzanelle but has the rhyming lines as 2 & 3 in each tercet, rather than 1 & 3. This enables me to have only 2 end-rhymes for the whole 19 lines (as in the villanelle) whereas the terzanelle has to have six differing rhyme-endings. The last 4 line stanza of the Verzanelle therefore has to also differ slightly from the Terzanelle. Clear?
Using capital-letters+number to indicate which lines repeat where, and small lower-case letters indicating the element of rhyming, here’s the comparison:
Official Villanelle: A1 b A2 a b A1 a b A2 a b A1 a b A2 a b A1 A2
Official Terzanelle: A1 B1 A2 b C1 B1 c D1 C1 d E1 D1 e F1 E1 f A1 F1 A2
My New Verzanelle: a B1 B2 a B3 B1 a B4 B3 a B5 B4 a B6 B5 a b B6 B2
Anyway, remember you read the first ever Verzanelle here on DUP.
Here goes …
ENGINEERED BY FORCE
Some people heard the message, and some didn’t
that’s what happens in a time of avid wars
leaves flowers decimated by hailstones from the North
Who will tell youngsters how it isn’t
why blood fills history’s books? The battle’s ‘on’ of course
that’s what happens in a time of avid wars
Delicate minds get traumatised, and christened
as venom of war-mongers spits and pours
Why blood fills history’s books? The battle’s ‘on’ of course
Recruiting sergeants dressed in drag, lie hidden
behind the media-hype and scripted chores
as venom of war-mongers spits and pours
Where’s the voice-for-peace? Smothered for good riddance
as anger surges up “to do” lists, in morse
behind the media-hype and scripted chores
A failed reconciliation, sold for a pittance
victim of an apocalyptic horse
as anger surges up “to do” lists, in morse
leaves flowers decimated by hailstones from the North.
“Villanelle” No: 20
Author’s Note:
Actually, it’s not a Villanelle, it’s a Verzanelle (hot off the press, invented by me). Explanation as follows:-
The best known (maybe only) cousin of the Villanelle is the Terzanelle (invented by the American poet Lewis Turco in 1965) which combines the repeating format of the “Terza Rima” (where the 2nd line of each triplet becomes the third line of the following triplet), with the 19-line format of the villanelle. The last stanza of 4 lines has a special format, repeating 3 previous lines.
The Verzanelle (as I have named it) follows the terzanelle but has the rhyming lines as 2 & 3 in each tercet, rather than 1 & 3. This enables me to have only 2 end-rhymes for the whole 19 lines (as in the villanelle) whereas the terzanelle has to have six differing rhyme-endings. The last 4 line stanza of the Verzanelle therefore has to also differ slightly from the Terzanelle. Clear?
Using capital-letters+number to indicate which lines repeat where, and small lower-case letters indicating the element of rhyming, here’s the comparison:
Official Villanelle: A1 b A2 a b A1 a b A2 a b A1 a b A2 a b A1 A2
Official Terzanelle: A1 B1 A2 b C1 B1 c D1 C1 d E1 D1 e F1 E1 f A1 F1 A2
My New Verzanelle: a B1 B2 a B3 B1 a B4 B3 a B5 B4 a B6 B5 a b B6 B2
Anyway, remember you read the first ever Verzanelle here on DUP.
Here goes …
ENGINEERED BY FORCE
Some people heard the message, and some didn’t
that’s what happens in a time of avid wars
leaves flowers decimated by hailstones from the North
Who will tell youngsters how it isn’t
why blood fills history’s books? The battle’s ‘on’ of course
that’s what happens in a time of avid wars
Delicate minds get traumatised, and christened
as venom of war-mongers spits and pours
Why blood fills history’s books? The battle’s ‘on’ of course
Recruiting sergeants dressed in drag, lie hidden
behind the media-hype and scripted chores
as venom of war-mongers spits and pours
Where’s the voice-for-peace? Smothered for good riddance
as anger surges up “to do” lists, in morse
behind the media-hype and scripted chores
A failed reconciliation, sold for a pittance
victim of an apocalyptic horse
as anger surges up “to do” lists, in morse
leaves flowers decimated by hailstones from the North.
A Transcendence
Beyond our past and our dead
That which mourning did not erase
A passage for our soul exists
And remains for us to embrace
Each upon a journey
And expedition of survival
An inward renaissance
Preceding a revival
A personal pilgrimage
Consciousness raising
Psychology of self
Internal appraising
Seeking revelation
A pathway to peace
Awareness is dawning
Liberating release
As our lives transcend
Outside the literal sense
We can rediscover ourselves
Without any pretence
Beyond our past and our dead
That which mourning did not erase
A passage for our soul exists
And remains for us to embrace
Each upon a journey
And expedition of survival
An inward renaissance
Preceding a revival
A personal pilgrimage
Consciousness raising
Psychology of self
Internal appraising
Seeking revelation
A pathway to peace
Awareness is dawning
Liberating release
As our lives transcend
Outside the literal sense
We can rediscover ourselves
Without any pretence
20/30
Dreams
Some dreams aren't
meant to be anything more
than what they already are
I've accepted that
Made my peace with it
There are more lifetimes ahead
for such flights of fantasy
and I feel sorry for those
poor souls who believe this is
our one and only chance at
the happiness God intended
for us to experience
I may have been born this way
but I'll be damned if I die
settling for anything less
this time around
Dreams
Some dreams aren't
meant to be anything more
than what they already are
I've accepted that
Made my peace with it
There are more lifetimes ahead
for such flights of fantasy
and I feel sorry for those
poor souls who believe this is
our one and only chance at
the happiness God intended
for us to experience
I may have been born this way
but I'll be damned if I die
settling for anything less
this time around
XX. Experience: Nursery, Pre-K
What can be said for the memory-age,
developing consciousness an infused
bud of evolution breaking the barrier
between worlds of Truth and illusion.
Technicolor downplayed in existence;
mud pies, snapping turtles, frog legs
box kites disappearing with distance -
your dreams dissipating spaceward.
You never understood why gravity
dodged your Spirit but held your mind
close to this planetary beginning
far from where your heart longed.
Looked for that ladder to climb, once
so visible now long gone, its veiled
doorway a wall, the anchor of doubt
sinking ever lower into your thoughts.
Until you wondered if it ever happened
at all. Were they real...Was I there.
Bridges met your feet and creek beds
your fingers excavating mossy rocks;
More relevant was Memory rooting
firmly into the History you now were.
The light is what you remember most;
shining through everything, its heat
burning you black in the cotton fields
stuffing sacks for multi-racial laborers.
You witnessed Virgin cotton absorb
the blood of pierced flesh, become
a metaphoric repetition as you aged:
a Sacrificial Lamb of Love and choice.
With such beauty of created existence
under the joy of swallowing each second
awaited always the contrast of pain,
ready to teach confusion and suffering.
And this is where Life truly begins.
...
What can be said for the memory-age,
developing consciousness an infused
bud of evolution breaking the barrier
between worlds of Truth and illusion.
Technicolor downplayed in existence;
mud pies, snapping turtles, frog legs
box kites disappearing with distance -
your dreams dissipating spaceward.
You never understood why gravity
dodged your Spirit but held your mind
close to this planetary beginning
far from where your heart longed.
Looked for that ladder to climb, once
so visible now long gone, its veiled
doorway a wall, the anchor of doubt
sinking ever lower into your thoughts.
Until you wondered if it ever happened
at all. Were they real...Was I there.
Bridges met your feet and creek beds
your fingers excavating mossy rocks;
More relevant was Memory rooting
firmly into the History you now were.
The light is what you remember most;
shining through everything, its heat
burning you black in the cotton fields
stuffing sacks for multi-racial laborers.
You witnessed Virgin cotton absorb
the blood of pierced flesh, become
a metaphoric repetition as you aged:
a Sacrificial Lamb of Love and choice.
With such beauty of created existence
under the joy of swallowing each second
awaited always the contrast of pain,
ready to teach confusion and suffering.
And this is where Life truly begins.
...
The Last King
Behold!
The king of kings,
Settra the Imperishable.
And now a fading memory
in the tomes of lore,
as false kings and fancier pretenders
hog the limelight
with vacuous pathetic boasts
that others are meant to adore and love.
Yet here, Settra still stands,
in defiance to everything
even in defiance to Chaos
and the ravages of time,
gazing across an empty dead land
with all eternity to contemplate
and through undead means
an eternity to spend in solitude.
Though a heart no longer beats
in this desiccated body
and the lungs are shrivelled beyond repair
the desire for conquest and revenge
is as strong as ever
with a will that cannot be broken,
though his realm and armies may be.
Where once an endless desert realm
was at beck and call
a False Usurper has taken it all.
But no do not underestimate
the Will of the King of kings,
Behold the Imperishable
and bow before his Majesty.
Nothing can ever tarnish that,
Settra wills it, so it is done.
(Day and Entry 20, GMT 19:32)
(If anyone knows how to insert images here it would be most appreciated. I tried using the insert image in the full edit options but it kept saying the format was wrong, even though the images were jpgs.)
Behold!
The king of kings,
Settra the Imperishable.
And now a fading memory
in the tomes of lore,
as false kings and fancier pretenders
hog the limelight
with vacuous pathetic boasts
that others are meant to adore and love.
Yet here, Settra still stands,
in defiance to everything
even in defiance to Chaos
and the ravages of time,
gazing across an empty dead land
with all eternity to contemplate
and through undead means
an eternity to spend in solitude.
Though a heart no longer beats
in this desiccated body
and the lungs are shrivelled beyond repair
the desire for conquest and revenge
is as strong as ever
with a will that cannot be broken,
though his realm and armies may be.
Where once an endless desert realm
was at beck and call
a False Usurper has taken it all.
But no do not underestimate
the Will of the King of kings,
Behold the Imperishable
and bow before his Majesty.
Nothing can ever tarnish that,
Settra wills it, so it is done.
(Day and Entry 20, GMT 19:32)
(If anyone knows how to insert images here it would be most appreciated. I tried using the insert image in the full edit options but it kept saying the format was wrong, even though the images were jpgs.)
Josh said:NaPoWriMo 20/30 for April 20th, 2017
“Villanelle” No: 20
Author’s Note:
Actually, it’s not a Villanelle, it’s a Verzanelle (hot off the press, invented by me). Explanation as follows:-
The best known (maybe only) cousin of the Villanelle is the Terzanelle (invented by the American poet Lewis Turco in 1965) which combines the repeating format of the “Terza Rima” (where the 2nd line of each triplet becomes the third line of the following triplet), with the 19-line format of the villanelle. The last stanza of 4 lines has a special format, repeating 3 previous lines.
The Verzanelle (as I have named it) follows the terzanelle but has the rhyming lines as 2 & 3 in each tercet, rather than 1 & 3. This enables me to have only 2 end-rhymes for the whole 19 lines (as in the villanelle) whereas the terzanelle has to have six differing rhyme-endings. The last 4 line stanza of the Verzanelle therefore has to also differ slightly from the Terzanelle. Clear?
Using capital-letters+number to indicate which lines repeat where, and small lower-case letters indicating the element of rhyming, here’s the comparison:
Official Villanelle: A1 b A2 a b A1 a b A2 a b A1 a b A2 a b A1 A2
Official Terzanelle: A1 B1 A2 b C1 B1 c D1 C1 d E1 D1 e F1 E1 f A1 F1 A2
My New Verzanelle: a B1 B2 a B3 B1 a B4 B3 a B5 B4 a B6 B5 a b B6 B2
Anyway, remember you read the first ever Verzanelle here on DUP.
Here goes …
Wow.
“Villanelle” No: 20
Author’s Note:
Actually, it’s not a Villanelle, it’s a Verzanelle (hot off the press, invented by me). Explanation as follows:-
The best known (maybe only) cousin of the Villanelle is the Terzanelle (invented by the American poet Lewis Turco in 1965) which combines the repeating format of the “Terza Rima” (where the 2nd line of each triplet becomes the third line of the following triplet), with the 19-line format of the villanelle. The last stanza of 4 lines has a special format, repeating 3 previous lines.
The Verzanelle (as I have named it) follows the terzanelle but has the rhyming lines as 2 & 3 in each tercet, rather than 1 & 3. This enables me to have only 2 end-rhymes for the whole 19 lines (as in the villanelle) whereas the terzanelle has to have six differing rhyme-endings. The last 4 line stanza of the Verzanelle therefore has to also differ slightly from the Terzanelle. Clear?
Using capital-letters+number to indicate which lines repeat where, and small lower-case letters indicating the element of rhyming, here’s the comparison:
Official Villanelle: A1 b A2 a b A1 a b A2 a b A1 a b A2 a b A1 A2
Official Terzanelle: A1 B1 A2 b C1 B1 c D1 C1 d E1 D1 e F1 E1 f A1 F1 A2
My New Verzanelle: a B1 B2 a B3 B1 a B4 B3 a B5 B4 a B6 B5 a b B6 B2
Anyway, remember you read the first ever Verzanelle here on DUP.
Here goes …
Wow.
20/30
Oiled Up At The Nude Beach
I hope you don't mind me sharing
the bit of my soul here I am baring
regarding actions of mine recent
quite out of character and daring
many details of which I'll be sparing
you from hearing about my indecent
exposure at the nude beach declaring
exhibitionist freedom for all by airing
out my private parts in an innocent
way as I let my primary piston and ball
bearing pairing dangle about on display
Oiled Up At The Nude Beach
I hope you don't mind me sharing
the bit of my soul here I am baring
regarding actions of mine recent
quite out of character and daring
many details of which I'll be sparing
you from hearing about my indecent
exposure at the nude beach declaring
exhibitionist freedom for all by airing
out my private parts in an innocent
way as I let my primary piston and ball
bearing pairing dangle about on display
Anonymous
vandalism vii
20.04.17. poem 20 of 30
iii.
it's uncanny how
going thru the motions
can appear the same
as living
when you've learned
not to taste
glass & ash
or feel the cold.
i stumbled in
the sterile aftermath
among cheerful walls
& that scent
burning my nose
until it blistered.
ii.
i spent six months
blind & deaf
with my heart
beating in my throat
& my foot
nailed to the floor
where the stain
stubbornly clings
to the grout
{yes there
right there}
tho i poured
bleach onto
blood memory
day after day
after...
i.
you had
the presence of mind
to mop
& systematically
dismantle pastel murals,
i remain ungrateful
for your forethought
for taking it
upon yourself
to clean & break
without rage
//
20.04.17. poem 20 of 30
iii.
it's uncanny how
going thru the motions
can appear the same
as living
when you've learned
not to taste
glass & ash
or feel the cold.
i stumbled in
the sterile aftermath
among cheerful walls
& that scent
burning my nose
until it blistered.
ii.
i spent six months
blind & deaf
with my heart
beating in my throat
& my foot
nailed to the floor
where the stain
stubbornly clings
to the grout
{yes there
right there}
tho i poured
bleach onto
blood memory
day after day
after...
i.
you had
the presence of mind
to mop
& systematically
dismantle pastel murals,
i remain ungrateful
for your forethought
for taking it
upon yourself
to clean & break
without rage
//
20/30
Google This
Dear Google Search Engine,
After over a decade of allowing websites
to emulate you in the art of digital theft
[ Yes, directly hotlinking to images
hosted on servers that other individuals
and businesses pay for is stealing ]
you are finally discussing the
penalization of their operations
[ many modeled after YouTube
a company owned by Google
which profits from "user uploads" ]
by lowering their rankings in correlation
to the number of complaints filed for
copyright infringement of videos and music
"uploaded by users"
[ which of course, YouTube
a company owned by Google
will be certainly exempt from ]
[ why you even still have YouTube
indexed in Google is beyond stupid
because everyone on the fucking planet
knows what YouTube is by now
as well as FaceBook, Pinterest, Twitter, Tumblr,
Bing? Yahoo?? Seriously???
but this is all aside from the point
I am about to make ]
Are you also going to issue an apology
and financial restitution to all the owners
of said stolen content you bankrupted as
a result of your sending billions of surfers
to those crooks because your algorithms
gave them front page search exposure?
You ASSHOLES helped other ASSHOLES
put hundreds of thousands of webmasters
and employees out of business
I just wanted you to know that
Irony is the closest thing there is
to poetry in this world
and your poetry sucks ass
Sincerely,
Currently Looking For Employment
Courtesy Of One Of The Most
Corrupt Corporations In Existence
That Thinks It Owns The Goddamn
Internet
Google This
Dear Google Search Engine,
After over a decade of allowing websites
to emulate you in the art of digital theft
[ Yes, directly hotlinking to images
hosted on servers that other individuals
and businesses pay for is stealing ]
you are finally discussing the
penalization of their operations
[ many modeled after YouTube
a company owned by Google
which profits from "user uploads" ]
by lowering their rankings in correlation
to the number of complaints filed for
copyright infringement of videos and music
"uploaded by users"
[ which of course, YouTube
a company owned by Google
will be certainly exempt from ]
[ why you even still have YouTube
indexed in Google is beyond stupid
because everyone on the fucking planet
knows what YouTube is by now
as well as FaceBook, Pinterest, Twitter, Tumblr,
Bing? Yahoo?? Seriously???
but this is all aside from the point
I am about to make ]
Are you also going to issue an apology
and financial restitution to all the owners
of said stolen content you bankrupted as
a result of your sending billions of surfers
to those crooks because your algorithms
gave them front page search exposure?
You ASSHOLES helped other ASSHOLES
put hundreds of thousands of webmasters
and employees out of business
I just wanted you to know that
Irony is the closest thing there is
to poetry in this world
and your poetry sucks ass
Sincerely,
Currently Looking For Employment
Courtesy Of One Of The Most
Corrupt Corporations In Existence
That Thinks It Owns The Goddamn
Internet
Miss Awe Jinnie
As the years go by
I find myself jaded
It’s hard not to be cynical
When life gives you lemons
Still there are some memories
That are warm and good
Your beautiful smile
That first sensual kiss
That gentle soft touch
That wondrous sex
Our love was perfect
Our love was mutual
We were inseparable
Who would have thought?
That we would last over
Twenty years before that
Acrimonious divorce
But I still remember
Such a beautiful face
Such a sexy smile
Such come to bed eyes
So many memories
But that was then
Way back then, and
I have moved on to
A new and younger model
But I still think of you
Now and then
I think of your face
Only to prevent myself
From reaching orgasm
As the years go by
I find myself jaded
It’s hard not to be cynical
When life gives you lemons
Still there are some memories
That are warm and good
Your beautiful smile
That first sensual kiss
That gentle soft touch
That wondrous sex
Our love was perfect
Our love was mutual
We were inseparable
Who would have thought?
That we would last over
Twenty years before that
Acrimonious divorce
But I still remember
Such a beautiful face
Such a sexy smile
Such come to bed eyes
So many memories
But that was then
Way back then, and
I have moved on to
A new and younger model
But I still think of you
Now and then
I think of your face
Only to prevent myself
From reaching orgasm
